Sibling Rivalry
by Worldsweaver
Summary: Sibling rivalry has always been a huge problem for Texas and Mexico; Now you get to see it in action. T for only for swears, and tobacco useage. For everyone who reiviwed since I don't have time to update my letters thing. Sorry! This is for you guys!
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, I do not own Hetalia or France. But Texas is MINE. So ja...er, enjoy.**

**Dedicated to: Texas. because he's the only one of my OC's who would put up with me torturing him like this.**

**Also thanks to: BlackWindButterfly for being awesome and inspiring moi to write more. ;D **

**May the France be with you...**

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><p>The small family owned diner sat at the cross streets of Squared Circle and Orange Grove in the small Western town. The road hadn't been tarred in over a decade as dust and small pieces of trash tumbled across the ground. Inside the diner the atmosphere and looks looked as if it was some time portal back to the thirties. Black and white tiles, red leather seats, a jukebox, and the constant aroma of french fries and milkshakes constantly kept the place with some customers, no one came for the food though.<p>

The two sat stoically across from each other. Not wanting to make any sudden moves in case the other was carrying a gun- which they both knew was 100% likely-hood of the tall lanky Texan drawing out his guns if the need arose.

"So..." The smaller girl started. Glaring into the others gray-blue eyes. The girl who had attempted a conversation noticed the scar etched across the mans features. It framed the undersides of his eyes like a pair of glasses. She knew where the scar had come from. She remembered where she had scared him with her knife so many years ago. A small smile crept onto her features as the man continued to glare at her.

"Como estas?" The woman deadpanned in her native tongue. Receiving back an even more hate filled glare from the man.

"Podría ser mejor. Y tu?" The man shrugged with his answer- it was also his native tongue, but he hardly bothered to use it anymore. There was almost no need for him. A waitress came by and absentmindedly tossed a single menu onto the table; Her mind elsewhere: focused on the small phone she was texting on.

"Have a nice date." The waitress said blandly before walking off. Both costumers went rigid at this remark- did they really not look like siblings enough to be mistaken for a couple?

"So. What did you call me here for again?" The man gritted his teeth as he spoke. Forcing a smirk onto his annoyed complexion.

"We are brother and sister no? We need to talk at one point or another." The woman shrugged, her black hair falling over her shoulders. She picked up the menu and examined it out of boredom.

"Your not the type to do those sorts of things." The man said absentmindedly sliding his hand down to the holster of his M1911 to reassure himself that she hadn't pick-pocketed him. "Why did you _really _ask me to meet you out here?" The man demanded snatching the menu from her and glanced at it.

"_Because._" She grabbed at the menu which he expertly avoided the sudden attack "You're my _brother_ and we _need_ to socialize more- you grew up to be such a antisocial country bumpkin." She lashed out to grab the menu from him and succeeded in latching onto a corner of the laminated paper.

"Well excuse me for being forced to grow up with _you_." The man tugged back at the menu but the others hold was harder than he thought.

"It's not my fault you inherited dad's soft-headedness, _Tejas_." She yanked back on the menu in attempt to free it from her younger brother.

"No need to call names dearest sister Mexico~" He stuck his tongue out at her as she attempted to take back the menu.

"Let go you bastardito!" She whined stretching across the table to stay attached to the menu which Texas read nonchalantly as he kept it firmly in his hand.

"I ain't finished reading yet. Wait your turn, munchkin." Texas smirked reading the side dishes. He pointed at objects on the menu: "Oh doesn't that look good- or that! I haven't even read all the desserts yet. I wonder if they have pecan pie? I like pecan pie- what about you?" He said almost to himself, Mexico being unable to see what he was pointing and gawking at on the menu.

"Quit being such a tease.. It's immature.. If I say I enjoy pecan pie... will you let me look ay the menu?" She grunted as he now had his snake-skin boot in her face to pry her off of him.

"No. But you can still say you like my states official dessert." He said cheerily as he re-read the items.

"I'm going to get France over here to terrorize you.." She growled in another desperate attempt to grab the menu.

Unfazed he looked down at her from over the menu "Ha. How do you expect to do that, dare I ask?"

A slender hand reached down and plucked the menu out of the Texas's hands "Bonjour du Mexique, est-il de vous donner des problèmes?" A blonde headed Frenchman said. Shades hid his brilliantly blue eyes- but both country and ex-country could tell he was flashing Texas a wink.

The usually 'brave and unfazed by the face of danger' Texan went white-as-a-sheet as he stared opened mouthed at the man standing in a suit before them. France handed the menu back to Mexico and she sat back in her seat and started to read it again.

"H-how... did.. you...?" Texas croaked, droplets of sweat forming on his head.

"He's in the Bad Touch Trio along with Spain. You see, if you had kept being one with Mexico and not run off to make your own country you'd have connections like I do." Mexico said simply, she shrugged as the Texan gulped and retreated to quietly sitting in his seat. "Move over, I invited him for lunch." The girl glared at her taller brother and his mouth opened and closed as if he was trying to say something but nothing came out.

"I-I thought you said that it would just be two?" Her brother said disheartened as he slid over for France to sit right side-by-side next to him. France's arm slid nonchalantly over Texas's head to rest on the seat-back. His hand on the other side just barley brushing the other man's shoulder.

"Oui, I know the two were Mexique and I. Then you got involved because we both like seeing you get uncomfortable." France chimed in grinning at him with his best attempt at a 'don't worry, I'm not going to rape you here' face. Sadly the smile looked rather painful and hard for France to hold.

Texas shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware that with Mexico on one side, and France on the other- there was no clear escape. He sat there silently wishing he could disappear like his adopted uncle Whats-his-face. Or at least be sitting on the other end of the seat- then he would have a chance of escape. The Frenchman drew out a cigarette and lit it. Offering the box around both country and ex-country refused. Normally Texas would have accepted one, but considering what France might be touching on a regular basis made his stomach do cartwheels.

"So what is it like being a state? Important business, non? Being considered the son of one of the youngest countries." France nudged him in the shoulder.

"I- um.. er.." Was the only intelligent thing that escaped the mans mouth as he tried to form words. "Not really. I have l-less of a say than if I was still my own country. B-but I'm not America's kid either; I'm Spain's." France let out a slight grunt of amusement at his answer.

"Then why aren't you one still?" France chuckled the took a long draw on the cigarette; exhaling the smoke into the Texan's face as the shadows around him suddenly grew darker. Slight flickers of an aura crept up behind the man as his tattered hat hid his eyes.

A frown plucked at the Texan' s mouth as he glowered down at the table "I wanted to. But I got annexed by that ba-"

A few of the customers saw the black and purple spirals issuing up from one of the booth and glanced over at the Frenchman, the Mexican, and the ominous looking Texan who's eyes were hidden by the visor of an old tattered hat. They all took one simultaneous gulp before returning to their meals.

Mexico noticed the attention they were getting and turned to her brother: "Why don't you go to the restroom. You look like you're not feeling well. You're not feeling well are you." Mexico cut in before Texas could explode into a fit of psychotic rage. She had seen it once before- luckily they had been in a pasture so the only thing he could do was tip over a few cows and shoot at anything that moved (minus the cows) with deadly accuracy.

She ushered Texas from the booth and as he left explained to France why they shouldn't mention it.

"So your saying... he's like a mini Russia?" France raised a golden eyebrow

"No." Mexico replied glancing over her shoulder in case Texas would return anytime soon. "He's just a hot-head when it comes to some subjects." she whispered quickly.

At this point Texas had returned and France now slid into the middle to let the Texan sit. The texting waitress returned and took in their orders: crepe, pancakes, eggs. It took about forty-five minutes for the food to arrive, and by that time the food had been sitting out long enough that most of it had cooled.

France munched on his crepe in dissatisfaction while Mexico attempted to cut the cold pancakes, and Texas, boredom weighing heavily on his shoulders, stabbed at his eggs halfheartedly. The waitress returned with the bill and tossed the black folded pamphlet to the Texan. Who picked it up and silently choked on the absurd amount of numbers that stared him down ominously.

He excused himself for the second time and made his way to the small room. Once their he sighed and slumped against the dirty walls, profanities and other such graffiti decorated the white plaster as he removed the ancient hat from his head and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. Sighing again he placed the hat back on his head and opened the door to let the next person in line in who glared at him unsure of why they never heard a flush or any water running at all. They immediately let go of the door handle and pushed the rest of it open with their foot.

Texas glanced at where the table was, three meters away. The exit was even less, glancing back at them he mused that the two owed him big-time for what they put him through today. But he should be polite and pay, he had been invited and- He shrugged off this idea and made a bee-line for the exit. Not bothering to look back behind his shoulder at the two, a Mexican and a Frenchman arguing with the manager about who would pay the bill.

Fin~

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><p><strong>Hope you guys liked my torturing of Texas. His terror of France is always amuzing. Now as most of you know the best cure for a writers block (Anotomical name: Writoris Blockicus) is reviewing stories; I have almost overcome this horrible disease and would love for you to help me with it~<strong>

**Translation: **

**"Bonjour du Mexique, est-il de vous donner des problèmes?": "Hello Mexico, is he giving you any problems?"**

**Sorry if the translation is a bit off, I don't know that much French. **


	2. Chapter 2: Epilogue

**A/N One specific review inspired me to write an epilogue. Hope you guys like it! **

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><p>Epilogue<p>

The man sighed as he was finally forced to pay the annoyingly pricey bill. Scrawling his human name onto the receipt he grit his teeth at the aggravatingly high price for a disgusting meal. The two stood and bade farewell to each other.

Francis pushed open the glass doors and came out onto the pavement. The asphalt littered with gum and trash of different sorts. He stowed his hands deep into his pockets as he walked over to the small silver Citroyen that was parallel parked in a reserved area.

He yawned, walking over to the drivers side of the car. He dug around in his pockets for his keys, an unlit Gallois* dangling from his teeth. Francis drove the keys into the key hole and stood by to light his black cigarette. Head down, hands covered his mouth as he lit the cigarette he saw something scratched into the beautiful silver paint job of his car.

Scowling the man bent down and read the keying: _"__Allez au diable, vous pervertir visqueux. N'est-ce pas ne mess avec le Texas. J'ai pris la liberté de mettre de la colle dans la serrure.__"_ Translated it said: _"Go__to__hell__you__slimy__pervert__. __Ain't__ no __one__ messes __with__ Texas. I __took__the__ liberty __of__putting__glue__ in __the__keyhole."_

France immediately tried to pull the key out of the lock; but the glue held fast. Bracing a foot on the drivers-side window he tried to rip the key out. This sadly resulted in the window cracking and Francis yelling angrily in French.

"Seems like you got some trouble with your car their, Francis." A smug looking Texan said perched atop his Harley, the engine thrumming almost happily. Francis glared at the man, the Texan had purposely made his voice sound even more Southern style than usual. Just to annoy him, the American probably knew he hated the English language.

"Oui, my car is stuck." He glowered at the American who let out a snort;

"I might have offered assistance if I wasn't the one who did it in the first place, amigo."

The Frenchman finally wrenched the key out of the lock. Almost falling backwards as he did so.

He could hear the Texan chuckling in the background. Straightening out his clothes he inserted the key once more and turned it; the familiar 'click' sounded out as he opened the door.

Getting in he turned the car on. He could hear the roar of the Harley as the Texan sped off. Sighing in annoyance he put the car in reverse and pressed the gas pedal down lightly. Backing up he maneuvered out of the small parking lot and onto the road.

Fin~

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><p><strong>AN I think France learned to not mess with Texas. XD Go! Push that button that say review! I want to hear what you think!**

***= A _Gallois_ is a type of French cigarette, instead of it being made with white paper it's made with black paper. **


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